


The Pro(m)posal

by Anonymous



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Prom, i went g but there is one swear word so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a fluffy high school au prom drabble</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pro(m)posal

There are seventeen days before prom and Mark knows he _has_ to ask someone soon if he wants an actual date, instead of an awkward, neither-of-us-have-a-date-but-we-don’t-want-there-to-be-any-chance-of-romance-so-we’re-going-as-friends pity date. He’s got one person in particular in mind, and he’s been slowly building the courage to ask them  since the school announced when prom was (and since he realized he was kind of in love with Jackson Wang at the end of freshman year when he looked up during chemistry and saw Jackson laughing, head thrown back, mouth open wide, no worries about how he looked, just _exuding_ happiness, and the sight of it brought a smile to Mark’s face and made his heart beat in double time).

Sort of looking for an excuse not to ask, sort of trying to make sure he has a chance, Mark checks with his and Jackson’s mutual friends to find out if Jackson has a date already (he’d ask Jackson personally, but he’s too nervous he’ll blurt out something about love and muss up his entire plan). He hears that quite a few people have already asked Jackson for a date (unsurprising) and that Jackson has turned down all of them (surprising). Mark thinks that he’ll probably be added to that list soon. If Jackson’s been shutting everyone down, he must have someone he wants to go with.

Ready to give it up, Mark reminds himself that it’s senior year, and he has just under a month left to confess to Jackson unless he wants to live a life of regret, always wondering what could’ve been if he was brave. With new found motivation, Mark wakes up at the crack of dawn (it’s actually 6:20 in the morning but it’s still too early) to put his plan into action.

He drives to Starbucks, not the nearest one, the one an extra fifteen miles away that has the barista Jackson really likes because he says she makes the coffee with _love_ and that’s important to him, and Mark thinks it might be a sign from the universe that she has the morning shift instead of her usual late afternoon.  Thankfully, the store is shockingly empty when Mark makes it inside, and she’s happy to let him borrow a sharpie. She even ‘awws’ loudly and wishes him luck when she sees that he needed it to scribble ‘Jackson, go to prom with me? – Mark’ on the side of the ridiculous drink that Jackson swears is the best thing he’s ever consumed even though every sip he’s shared with Mark has tasted like pure sugar.

Ahead of schedule, Mark makes it to the school before half of the teachers. He only meant to arrive early enough to sneak the beverage into Jackson’s first period class before the boy in question showed up to see him. Mark may be ready to confess his feelings to Jackson, but he doesn’t think he could manage doing it face to face. Too early and too nervous, Mark ends up driving aimlessly through the back streets near the school for fifteen more minutes in an effort to calm down.

It doesn’t work.

Twenty minutes before school starts, Mark finally parks and trudges, anxiety making his stomach ache, into Jackson’s homeroom to place the cooling coffee on the desk of Jackson’s assigned seat. He sprints back out of the room, thanking his lucky stars that there was no one inside to catch him. Despite having high hopes that some of his worry would fade once the drink was out of his hand, he only feels worse once the cup is in position.

Mark thinks he might actually throw up when he sees Jackson running, full speed, down the hall as he wanders towards his locker to get ready for his own first class. His hands are shaking so badly by the time he tries to twist his lock; it takes him six tries to get the combination correct.

When he does, the metal door swings open and Mark meets his biggest shock of the morning. From inside, shit comes _pouring_ out, all of it piling at his feet. It happens so suddenly, Mark doesn’t have time to catch any of the falling items. He stares down at the mess for a long time, trying to process. After several minutes of almost silence, the sound of whispering coming at him from all angles, Mark reaches down into the layers of what _looks_ to be trash, retrieving a handful. In it, he finds a mass of heart shaped confetti, an actual piece of trash (it’s just a tootsie roll wrapper and Mark thinks it’s reasonable to assume it wasn’t actually meant for him) and two ping pong balls. They’re two of many, Mark realizes, and both of them have ‘Prom?’ written across their surfaces in thick, black marker. Glancing down at the others, Mark guesses that the smears of black he can see on each white ball probably read the same.

In the midst of it all, Mark sees a large envelope, and he picks it out of the fray. Opening it, he finds a thick card that once wished a happy birthday to its receiver, but now requests the same as the ping pong balls, ‘Prom???’ scribbled across the front so frequently you almost can’t read what it originally said.

Somewhat warily, Mark flips open the card to find the name of its sender, and is suddenly bombarded with sound.

“HEY, MARK!” A familiar voice shouts from the little white speaker located in the crease of the card, clearly recorded personally, “YOU SHOULD GO TO PROM WITH ME. AS MY DATE. NOT AS FRIENDS. I DON’T WANT TO BE JUST FRIENDS WITH YOU, AND, I HAVEN’T...”

In the card, a voice interrupts the yelling, much quieter, to say, “Jackson, you know these things have a time limit, right?”

“BUT, I’M NOT DO-“ It ends abruptly, and Mark can do nothing but stand, frozen in shock, with the card laying open. Mechanically, moving only his hands as the rest of his body remains still, Mark shuts and reopens it so it plays again. And then again. And then a fourth time, because he really can’t believe it. He stares at the paper, the big ‘Jackson Wang’ signed under the crossed out message that has been edited to ‘Please be my date to prom and also my boyfriend’ and thinks he must be dreaming.

But, he’s not. He is standing ankle deep in pounds of confetti and hundreds of ping pong balls that Jackson had to have spent hours personally writing ‘Prom?’ on with a repurposed birthday card that yelled at him to go to prom with Jackson Wang, the same boy he’s been in love with since he was fourteen, ten minutes after he gave said boy a cup of coffee asking _him_ to prom, and it is, in fact, Mark’s actual real life.

Tugging his phone out of his pocket once the entire situation _finally_ sinks in, Mark takes a picture of the mess around his shoes, the card hanging from his free hand in the edge of the frame and sends it to Jackson with the caption, ‘i hate you’ hovering at the bottom of the image.

Within seconds, he receives two snaps back, first, an uncaptioned picture of the coffee cup message, and right after a selfie of Jackson wearing the biggest smile Mark has ever witnessed, a little bar reading ‘sure you do, prom date’ covering his collarbone.

Mark smiles softly down at his phone screen even after the image disappears and is replaced with the snapchat menu, and thinks, nah, he doesn’t hate Jackson at all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on jacksnwangs.tumblr.com


End file.
